


Paying the Price

by keep_waking_up



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Coerced Consent, Dark Jensen Ackles, Dubious Consent, Hard Dub-Con, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:32:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1464388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_waking_up/pseuds/keep_waking_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At fifteen, Jared is the new leader of the Padalecki faction, and, like all faction leaders, Jared must go to the Information Broker and pay his price.  It just isn't the price he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paying the Price

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the salt-burn-porn prompt "quid pro puo." Warnings for EXTREMELY HARD dub-con. Verbally, Jared consents, but only under duress.

Jared’s father dies when he’s fifteen.  He’s killed in one of the wars for territory that are so common these days.  The Padalecki faction holds a good deal of land in what once was the city of San Antonio, but there’s always someone who wants what you have.  Jared wants what other people have most times nowadays.  The whole world exists in a constant state of wanting.

There’s one man that doesn’t want for much—the Information Broker.  Jared doesn’t know where he gets all his information—just knows that it’s always good and that it always costs a pretty penny.  His dad had been lucky; back when It had first happened, he’d saved the Information Broker’s life.  The man had been grateful—grateful enough that he’d given Mr. Padalecki a discount.  Still, it had always been _almost_ too much for them.  The Broker clearly had enough information to know exactly what to ask for.

Jared’s the leader of their faction now, even though he’s only fifteen.  He wears a red bandana—the color of their faction—and wields a long pipe.  He’s dangerous with it too, learned from the best.  Even though he’s just a kid, a lot of members of other factions fear him.  Age doesn’t really matter anymore, in their time.  All that matters is if you can grit your teeth through the pain and go on.

He may be the leader, but he won’t be able to stay a leader without information.  So, a month after his father’s death, after a pretty hard hit to the east side of their faction territory, he makes the journey to the Information Broker for the first time.

The Information Broker lives in the middle of the city, in one of those tall, tall towers that used to be called skyscrapers.  Most of them have fallen into disrepair, but the Broker keeps his floor clean and tidy.  Some people say that he likes to stand and watch out his windows as the factions dissolve into violence on the information he gives them.  Some say he gets off on it. 

They all say that he’s a frightening man, fierce and ruthless.  There have been those who have tried to take advantage of him, of course, but he’s managed to ward them off.  Jared’s best friend, Chad, thinks the man is secretly an alien with lazer beams for eyes.  Jared simply thinks that he’s probably a really good fighter.

Sometimes, after meeting with the Broker, Jared’s father would seem beat-down and hopeless.  He’d sit next to Jared and say, “Jared, I wish I’d never saved that man.”

Jared had been baffled.  Because his father _had_ saved the Broker, they had information, and got it so much easier than any of the other factions.  Without the Broker, the factions would be attacking each other thoughtlessly.  There would have been so much more pain, so much more chaos.  He could never understand his father’s reasoning.

As he looks up at the Broker’s building, he wonders if he’ll feel the same way after they talk.

The things called elevators no longer work, so Jared takes the stairs.  It’s a long hike—the Broker’s apartment is on the top floor, the thirty-first one.  Jared’s panting by the time he exits the stairwell, and the only reason he doesn’t stop to catch his breath is because there are two men there, standing in front of the door that _must_ lead to the Broker.

“What do you want?” One of them asks, and adjusts his mended jacket so Jared can see the knife there.

Drawing himself up tall, Jared says, “I’m Jared, the leader of the Padalecki faction.  I need to see the Broker.”

The two men exchange glances and then one of them slips inside the door, presumably to alert the Broker to Jared’s presence.  The one who had spoken to begin with continues staring at Jared.  “Look, kid,” he says.  “The Broker doesn’t deal with those who can’t pay.  If you can’t handle the price, get out of here now.”

The allusion is too much for his pride.  Jared squares his shoulder.  “I’m the _leader_ of the Padalecki faction.  No price is too much to ensure the safety of my people.”

The man scoffs, like Jared doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  It makes Jared irrationally angry.  This man, clearly a bodyguard, has probably deserted his faction to work this cushy job with the Broker.  Clearly, he understands nothing about faction loyalty, about protecting one’s own.  Perhaps _he_ wouldn’t pray the price, but he is _less_ than Jared.  Jared knows what he has to do and he isn’t afraid of it.  He isn’t a _coward_.

The door opens one more and the other man ushers him in.  Jared is barely inside before he’s closing the door behind him, leaving Jared in a vast open room with no visible company.  Jared takes it in, from the wide, wide windows, to the grand desk seated right in front of them.  Almost unconsciously, he moves towards the windows, wanting to look out and see if he can identify his home amidst the wreck of the city.  He’s nearly touching the glass when a voice comes out from behind him.

“I wouldn’t recommend doing that,” the voice says, and there’s a smile to it.  Jared whips around, and notices for the first time the figure lounging in a dark leather armchair by a dark leather couch.  The Broker’s legs are crossed and his hands are laced in his lap.  He doesn’t seem to be doing anything in particular.  Just watching Jared.  “Fingerprints are _such_ a pain to clean up and I’d hate to start our acquaintance on a bad note.”

Jared eases away from the glass.  He tries for confidence when he asks, “Are you the Information Broker?”  But he has a feeling he sounds more like a nervous boy than anything.  The man’s green eyes are unnerving in their almost preternatural color; for once, Jared thinks Chad might have it right.  The Broker doesn’t look human.

“I am,” the man replies and gestures casually to the couch.  “Come sit down, Jared.  We have a lot to discuss, I’m sure.”

Up close, the man is stunning.  Jared gapes a little; there are no scars on his chin, no battle wounds from faction fights.  Jared has never seen someone with skin so smooth and clothes so immaculate.  The Broker doesn’t even have a beard, just very carefully maintained stubble.  Jared stumbles a little as he seats himself—his normal grace seems absent around this man.  “Thank you for having me,” Jared gets out, unexpectedly shy.  “I’m sorry I haven’t had time to visit you before.”

“Bygones,” the Broker says dismissively.  “I’m sure you had much you had to handle, what with the death of your father.  My condolences, by the way.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Jared is beginning to relax, put at ease by the Broker’s friendly manner.  Everything about him seems soothing and comforting, especially in contrast to the hard weeks Jared has gone through as the Padalecki’s new leader.  This room, up high away from the factions, is calm and almost silent.  Jared wishes he could stay here forever.  “I need your help,” he says, unsure how else to start.  “I need information about the factions surrounding us.  I need to know what their plans our.”

“That’s a lot of things you need to know,” the Broker says mildly, and Jared flushes a bit even though it doesn’t seem like rebuke.  “And please, Jared, call me Jensen.”

The casual invitation loosens the last of the knots in Jared’s stomach.  “Jensen,” he repeats with a smile.  “Thank you.”

There’s something odd in the man’s gaze then, something that shifts as he focuses on Jared’s grin.  His returning smile is close-mouthed and tight, even though smile lines form around his eyes.  “Has anyone ever told you that you have a lovely smile, Jared?”

Once more, Jared blushes, ducking his head.  He’d had a few flirtations with other girls in the faction, but such romances weren’t really encouraged, not when it was so likely that one of them could be dead the next day.  Flirting wasn’t worth the time.  This sort of forward flattery was something altogether new to him.  “No, sir,” he says, “I can’t say anyone has.”

Jensen leans forward and places cool fingers under Jared’s chin, tilting his head up.  “Now Jared,” he says softly.  “Didn’t I tell you to call me Jensen?”

“Y-yes,” Jared stutters.  “I’m sorry.”

When Jensen releases him, Jared feels like the strings holding him up have suddenly been cut.  The Broker leans back in his chair with a satisfied smile.  “No need to apologize.”

There’s an awkward pause—at least on Jared’s end—and Jared fidgets with the hem of his shirt for a moment before he blurts out, “So, about the neighboring factions—”

“No need to be so eager,” Jensen cuts in smoothly.  “After all, we haven’t even discussed payment yet.”

“Oh!”  Jared almost wants to hit himself over the head for forgetting about it.  “I’m sorry, that’s probably really impolite, isn’t it?”  He clasps his hands, raises his head, and looks determinedly at Jensen.  “Whatever price you name, the Padalecki faction is ready to pay it.  And I’d like to thank you for always being so kind to us in your discounts.”

Jensen’s smile shifts, becoming curvier and more mysterious.  “I’m glad to know you are able to pay your share,” he says silkily.  “Although you can’t honestly think I’m going to give you a discounted price.”

For a moment, Jared’s jaw drops open.  Then he remembers himself and closes it with a sharp snap.  “I’m sorry, but you’ve always given us discounts before, because of my father and what he did for you—”

“Yes, your father,” Jensen agrees, and he stands up, moving slowly but purposefully through his apartment.  “But you, Jared, are not your father, are you?”

Jared’s stomach seems to turn on itself; nausea rises to the back of his throat.  He hadn’t expected for the Broker to negate their agreement upon his father’s death.  He’d _banked_ upon that discount.  “I see,” he squeezes out, and manages not to turn around, even though Jensen is somewhere behind him now.  “Regardless, I am here with the full intention of paying what you ask for.”

“Good.”  There’s that same smile in Jensen’s voice, but it doesn’t sound nearly so appealing now.  “I’ll admit that there’s been something I’ve been waiting to ask of you, Jared.  A payment I’ve desired for a while now.”  He crosses back into Jared’s vision and Jared could recognize his smile as the smirk it was now.  “Only you can help me with this, Jared.”

Swallowing, Jared nods as smoothly as he could.  “What is it?” He asks, and tries to keep the tinge of dread out of his voice.  It could be anything, and his faction is not as well-stocked as he’d like it to be.  Losing much of anything could mean the death of them. 

“Did you know when I first saw you?” Jensen asks, somewhat nonsensically.  Confused, Jared shakes his head slowly, but Jensen doesn’t even look at him before continuing.  “You were around twelve at the time, I believe.  I saw you fighting against the Harris faction, wielding that over-sized pole. You were so fierce, before all those grown men who were three times your age and twice your size.”  Jensen clasps his hands behind his back, staring out his windows with something bordering on nostalgia.  “I’ll admit to being impressed.”  He turns back to Jared, gleam in his eye.  “I’m not often impressed.”

“I’m… flattered,” Jared says, because that seems safe.  He is, sort of.  He remembers that fight, one of the first times he’d really gone out in the field.  His father had been exceptionally proud afterwards.  It had always been a good memory, one of Jared’s finest.  Jared isn’t sure it will remain that after this day.

“You should be,” Jensen tells him as he slowly stalks closer.  Jared feels like a rat being pushed into a corner by a cat—sitting as he is on the couch, he feels like prey with no options.  He didn’t even bring a knife, god. 

When Jensen stops moving, he is standing right in front of Jared, looking down on him.  The light is hitting his eyes just so, so there’s a bit of a glare to them.  He looks bigger than he really is.  Slowly, the man reaches down and thumbs open the button his pants, then leisurely pulls down the zipper.  Jared stares up at his face, trying not to see the bulge in his pants. 

“You impressed me,” Jensen repeats, and his voice is somewhat breathy as he palms himself casually with one hand.  “So I think I _will_ give you a discount.”  He tilts his head to the side, and suddenly his face is all shadows as he manages to block out the light.  “You’ll come to my apartment here, once a week, no exceptions.  You stay for an hour and do whatever I tell you to do.  In return…”  he pauses, obviously letting the anticipation draw out.  “In return, I’ll give you all the information you want.”

The promise is everything Jared has ever wanted, but the price is more than he ever expected to pay.  He’d never heard of this before—in fact, people had talked about woman leaders trying to seduce the Broker with their charms and being brusquely turned away.  Now, Jared knows why.

He knows he’s going to say yes too.  He can’t _not_.  He has people that rely on him, people to protect.  Even though every fiber of his body wants to rebel against this blatant show of manipulation and power, he knows he can’t.  This man holds all the cards and Jared _needs_ him to survive.

“You won’t let me pay some other way?” Jared asks with little hope.

The answer is what he expects it to be.  The Broker grins at him even wider, teeth shadowed and hungry looking as well.  “No, I don’t think so, Jared.  This is the offer.  You accept now, and we have a deal.  You decline…”  He shrugs mildly, like this is all just a game to him.  “Well then, I suppose the Padalecki faction will have to get its information someplace else.”

There is no other source of information.  No one knows how the Broker collects his information and thus he is the sole monopoly, the one person _everyone_ must bow down to.  Jared is no exception.

“And this deal will hold for as long as I am leader?” Jared asks hardly, glaring up at the other man.  He doesn’t have to play “nice” anymore.  He doesn’t think Jensen particularly wants him to.

“Maybe,” Jensen says evasively, and he brings one hand to curl in Jared’s hand, yanking it so that Jared’s head is pulled back and his throat is exposed.  Jensen tilts his head the other way and now his face is all light, so bright it’s hard to look at.  “I suppose it all depends on how good you are at following orders.”

There’s no more time for delaying.  The sun is setting and Jared needs to get back to his faction by nightfall.  “Fine,” he spits out.  “We have a deal.”  Normally, it would be sealed with a handshake.  But somehow, he doesn’t think that’s what Jensen wants.  In fact, he’s sure of it.

All the Broker’s teeth are shown this time, flashing in a wide, triumphant grin.  “Good,” Jensen coos, and nudges Jared’s head forward, toward the obvious bulge in his pants.  “I trust I don’t have to tell you what I want you to do?”

Jared shakes his head jerkily.  He reaches up to pull Jensen’s cock out with shaking fingers.  He’s glad that the button is already undone, because he isn’t sure he could manage it.  He can barely pull Jensen’s briefs down enough to ease Jensen’s cock out.  Once it _is_ out, he’s struck dumb and motionless.

It isn’t the biggest cock he’s ever seen, although it is decent size.  But Jared is terrified; he’s never even _touched_ another man’s dick before, let alone sucked it.  And he has to do it _well_ if he wants his faction to be safe and secure the information they need.

It’s only when Jensen sighs heavily—warningly—that Jared jerks out of his stupor.  He lurches forward, consumed with the need to get things _done_.  Wrapping his lips around his teeth, he sucks in a deep breath and then plunges down, gagging himself on Jensen’s dick.

Instantly, he’s choking, but Jensen seems to like that by the way his hand fists in Jared’s hair and keeps him there.  Jared’s hands come up, as if to shove him off, but Jared is able to restrain himself at the last minute.  He’s needs to do this, for his people, and if that means half-suffocating on Jensen’s dick, then so be it.

When Jensen’s grip softens a little, he jerks back, coughing, but he doesn’t wait for another prompt before diving in a bit.  He sucks at the head a bit, trying to get it wet enough to slide more easily down his throat.  He doesn’t know how this works, but the dry skin of Jensen’s cock had not made for the easiest entry the last time.  He works up spit in his mouth, slowly sucking in more and more, getting it as wet as possible.

The skin all around his mouth is wet and damp.  He’s not touching Jensen with anything but his mouth, and he’s trying not to look much either.  But, a minute or so in, there’s a tug at his hair.  “Look up at me,” Jensen instructs, and there’s a cruel hint to his voice that had been hiding previously behind a thin veneer of civility.  “Look at me while you suck my cock.”

Even though it disgusts him, even though the thought horrifies him, Jared forces his eyes upwards.  He instantly wishes he hadn’t—Jensen’s grin is cruel and sharp, and Jared feels pinned beneath his gaze.  He turns a humiliated red as another tug at his hair reminds him to resume his work.  Slowly, he lowers himself down again, eyes still caught by Jensen’s.

“Good little whore,” Jensen praises him in a sickly-sweet voice.  He doesn’t say anything else, but it’s enough.  The taste of his dick in Jared’s mouth turns even more sour than before.  Jared can feel his eyes tearing as he tries to get it in deeper, tries to bob his head and get it _over with_.  He fucks his mouth onto Jensen’s dick, and he doesn’t care if it makes him cry or if he can’t breathe.  He wants it _done_.

“Good boy,” Jensen says, and then he’s holding him down, forcing him still as he spills down his throat.  Jared watches him, watches him tilt his head back and laugh as he comes, an awful, manic sound that Jared thinks he will never be able to unhear.  When he is released a moment later, he pushes backwards with all his might and scrubs his face and eyes clean with his shaking hands.

When he looks up again, Jensen has already redone his pants, straightened his shirt.  Not a hair looks out of place.  He’s reseated himself in the leather chair and he’s pulling out a folder.  Idly, he tosses it in Jared’s direction.  “Here.  That should hold you for a week.  Come back around the same time next week if you want more.”  Those eyes slid up to look at Jared secretively, like this is just a private game between the two of them.  Maybe, to the Broker, it is.  “And if you want to keep our deal intact… don’t be late.”

Jared doesn’t say anything.  He grabs the folder and runs.  He nearly runs into the guards outside the door, but when they protest he just darts by him, feet pounding as he races down the stairs, the rhythm matching the beat of his own heart.  He keeps running once he’s on the street, and doesn’t stop until he’s in a dark alley between Jensen’s apartment and his faction. 

He collapses to his knees, hands landing on the gritty concrete.  He’s somewhat surprised to see he’s still holding the folder—and thank god, given what he’d done for it.  Breathing heavily, he swallows down his nausea and flips through it.  It’s good info, better than his father had ever gotten.  With this kind of information, the Padalecki faction could expand, take over.  They could rule the city.

Even though Jared can still hear Jensen laughing, he knows he’ll go back.  He’s has people to look out for, after all.


End file.
